To say the ride back to Leigh's parents' house was awkward didn't do the word adequate justice. Making prolonged eye contact with a stranger on the train was awkward. Waving at someone who was waving at someone behind you was awkward. This. Was. Excruciating.
A mere few hours prior we'd been at ground zero for the most recent supervillain calamity, only narrowly avoiding being flattened by a stressfully tight margin. Then there was the fact that the Courten's probably wouldn't have minded all that much if I had been squashed, so long as that meant that their daughter would make more appropriate friends, and none of that took Atticus into account, who I suspected might be a villain and doubtlessly felt ill at ease surrounded at all sides by semi-strangers, even if he outwardly didn't show it. Only Leigh seemed perfectly, blissfully unaware to the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.
She remained buried in her phone, and only by the time the the gravel crunched beneath the car tires as we pulled up her driveway forty minutes later did I finally understand why, because I opened up her favorite photo-sharing app and found myself greeted by Leigh's face, carefully positioned to highlight a long, slender neck that, in fact, only existed at that carefully calculated angle. Beside her, Tempest grinned widely for the camera — and I was nowhere to be seen.
My jaw dropped in outrage.
"You cropped me out!"
She peered up through her lashes innocently from the bench opposite me in her parents' rented out limousine . "You said I wasn't allowed to post you."
While yes, I had indeed said such a thing, that largely had been in a vain effort to keep my location a secret from a certain supervillain, and now that proactive defense measure seemed pointless. It didn't matter what she did or did not post, since Shade — Atticus — had insider information. He needed no post to tell him where I was, assuming he really was a supervillain. All he needed to do was ask her.
Worst of all, I couldn't even explain my sudden change of heart to her without implicating my misgivings about her brother. The one time I actually wouldn't mind being posted — before getting covered in fallen debris, I looked damn decent in my dress — she had chosen to protect my privacy.
Grumbling something about how it wasn't fair, I slid out the car after Atticus and stomped despairingly inside. He slowed his pace for me to catch up — a red flag for a potential stalker and serial abductor, but his mother and father entered ahead of us, so the threat of his proximity seemed reasonably lessened. At least for now, if he was Shade, he didn't want them to know.
What a silly balancing act I played, weighing the threat he posed to me and his family against both of our willingness not to cause a spectacle. If he caused a spectacle, his cover would get blown, whereas if I caused a spectacle I had only two outcomes: one, I was correct and, his identity revealed, he had no reason not to go on the offensive, or two, I was wrong and ruined a valued long-term friendship. Or, now that I thought about it, the least favorable outcome would be me being right and him lying his way out of it. Who would the Courten's believe? Their son or me? No contest.
"That disappointed about not being seen with a famous superhero?" he asked, not quite judgmental, but with a similar semi-smug air to someone waving a red flag in front of a bull because they thought it's reaction would be amusing.
"I've been seen with enough superheroes, thanks," I retorted with more aggression than the question truly warranted. "I could get a picture with Tempest any day of the week if I wanted to, but he's a people-pleasing golden retriever of a man and I'm cursed with an ounce of dignity."
"Only one ounce?"
He retreated into the kitchen, a massive construct larger than my living room and kitchen combined, supplied with marble countertops and gold furnishings that might have looked tacky if it didn't make me want to rob them blind, since, I had a sneaking suspicion the gold was real all the way through, and not merely gold plaited. A massive window overlooking their detestable rose garden overtook one wall containing the sink, while the others had an absurd amount of counter space and cabinets. Their dining table — that I'd never seen them use — was in an adjoining room, out of sight and equally pretentious.
BẠN ĐANG ĐỌC
Super•Villainous
Viễn tưởng"I've been looking for you." There was an unexpected rasp to his voice, a hint of desperation. He stretched out one hand, as if to brush it across my cheek, or perhaps wrap it around my throat. Oddly enough, I didn't know which option frightened me...
